Dripping

Margaret walked to the end of the jetty. She stared over the railing at the slate grey sea, thinking about what had gone wrong. That Gaius! He was a prickly sort of chap. But she was not about to give up yet.

She turned and walked back to the kiosk. She bought two icecreams and carried them over to where Gaius was still sitting on the sand, busily writing.

Oh hello, Margaret, said Gaius. What have you there?

Icecreams, said Margaret. This one is for you.

She handed him an icecream that had already started dripping.

Eat it quickly, she said. It's dripping.

Good gracious! Is that what they make icecreams of these days? said Gaius. Dripping?

No! said Margaret. It's made of lovely cream, you ninny.

Thank you, Margaret, said Gaius, taking the icecream. He licked it gingerly.

This is pleasant, he said.

They sat in silence for a while.

What are you doing tonight? asked Margaret.

Nothing, said Gaius. No, no, not nothing! I'm doing something.

Is it something I can help you with? asked Margaret.

No, no, said Gaius. I'm going to see a film.

I like films, said Margaret. Perhaps I could come too.

You wouldn't like this film, said Gaius, firmly.

Where is it on? asked Margaret.

The Science Exchange, said Gaius. It will be extremely harrowing. You wouldn't like it.

I'm sure I shall learn something useful, said Margaret.